And Leaves Still Fall
by PhantomPenguin
Summary: Paton stared at the leaf, lost in another world—one of the past, and of a distant, unforeseen future that he was not a part of. Not anymore. Halloween and Paton-centric oneshot.


**Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own Charlie Bone.**

It's been a while since I've posted any new stories, hasn't it? Life seems to have a charming little habit of running off with all of my free time lately. I don't have too much to say about this little oneshot...I think I'll let it speak for itself. Happy Halloween, everybody!

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Shivering at the bite of the crisp autumn wind, Paton clenched and unclenched his fingers in a futile attempt to attract some warmth. Sighing heavily, he drew his coat more tightly about himself. Curiously, the wind seemed not to physically affect him; for, though it danced and whirled about the long darkening street, barely a hair moved on Paton's head.

Dusk was falling, the pink-tinged sun sinking into the horizon and sending great beams of color into the purpling sky. The trees that lined the narrow street shone in the radiant glow, the sun's dying rays tinting the already-vivid oranges and yellows and reds with a glowing golden sheen. They gleamed like jewels, and Paton froze momentarily, entranced by the beauty that hung suspended before him. Thoughts of anything else temporarily escaped his head, chased away by that single, ephemeral moment of serenity and the all-encompassing power that accompanied it. Moments like this were why he was here tonight. They drove one to a new level of understanding, of living-a level that some people had need to be reminded of.

Wind whistled through the trees, jostling the leaves from their sedentary positions and sending some spiraling down to the ground, drifting unhurriedly to meet with the cold asphalt below. Paton watched them with a wistful gaze. He had always loved fall, for the sense of renewal it imbibed him with as well as for nature's brilliant collage. It was only fitting that he was here now. He only wished..

Seized by a sudden, uncontrollable, and completely irrational urge, Paton stooped and spread his arms about a great pile of leaves as if to encompass them, a great motion of gathering and drawing in. They danced just beyond his reach, taunting him with their elusiveness. Straining, he extended his arms even farther, kneeling down on the sidewalk. His fingers wrapped gently around one long-dead stem, and a wondrous smile touched his lips as he plucked it from the pile. It was a beautiful leaf, a ruby center edged with rich mahogany, and streaks of gold shot through the center like veins.

Paton stared at the leaf, lost in another world—one of the past, and of a distant, unforeseen future. Not his, though, never his. Not anymore.

When he rose to his feet, the leaf remained clasped between his fingers. It was firmly secured with a grasp that seemed as though it would never let go, held as though it was Paton's one remaining link to the world at large. He remained motionless for a few moments longer, twirling the leaf between his fingers and watching the sun sink slowly into oblivion, his mind following along its dark journey.

As the last faint vestiges of light faded, the street lamps flickered into life with a muted hum, casting a washed-out glow across the pavement. Instinctively, Paton flinched away from the artificial light, shirking the sickly yellow for the comfortable familiarity of the shadows. As the wind increased its pace, he tucked his hands into his coat pockets as if to shelter them from the onset cold, careful to protect the leaf that remained in his grasp. The roughened edges scraped against the wool of his coat with a faint crinkle, the soft sound magnified tenfold to him as he resumed his steady stride.

The leaf was unexpected, but it was a good sign. Perhaps…

His pace increased. He couldn't be late to the bookshop; Julia was expecting him, though she did not yet know it.

The wind increased to a blustery gale, toppling trashcans and sending lonely leaves whipping down the street in a fiery whirl that was all but lost in the black night. Paton continued along down the isolated and empty street, a solitary figure beneath the street lamps. Their yellow light bathed him in their sallow glow, the bulbs buzzing with the faint hum of electricity. The sound caught Paton's attention and he turned his eyes upward with a pained smile, nevertheless continuing along the sidewalk at his brisk pace.

It was a haunted night, the sickle shape of the moon shining high in the sky beneath a palette of bright stars. The darkness, usually rife with noise and life, was tonight silent, lurking beyond the edge of the eerie calm that had settled over the city. Still Paton continued on his path, his gaze wary but not worried. Few things in the city posed him any threat.

Drawing close to the towering cathedral, he sighed and sank back into the shadows for a moment, just beyond the edge of the light. Cool marble met his back as he rested against the cathedral wall, the holy edifice offering him a brief respite from his woes. He turned conflicted eyes on Ingledew's and watched the shop through an unreadable sable gaze, his expression clouded with regret. Unconsciously, his fingers tightened into a fist. It wasn't supposed to be this way. His fist tightened even further in his pocket, curling around the leaf in an effort to protect it. Slowly his grip relaxed, the tension fleeing as a result of his concentrated effort.

One long finger idly traced the veins of the leaf, trailing over the bumpy contours and rough fibers.

It was time.

He found himself beside one of the warmly glowing windows of the shop without quite knowing how. He could not remember moving from his sanctuary beside the church, yet here he stood before Julia's shop and a window to the world in which he belonged. One pale hand left the pocket to trace the outline of the pane, ghosting over the gleaming glass.

Inside, the scene appeared to be one typical of a chilly October evening. A warm fire crackled in the grate, casting its lively golden glow over the room. The books gleamed in their shelves, worn bindings and thick leather covers given new life in the fire's radiant glow. In the corner, a solitary candle flickered on Julia's desk, the wax running slowly down its side marking the progression of the evening. Paton noted with no small amount of pain that a small electric light was also on, a small lamp resting on the end table beside Emma, who sat curled up on the sofa, her feet tucked up beneath her and a pensive look on her face.

In the opposite armchair, Julia sat with rigidly, an unopened book resting in her lap. His heart swelled as he realized that she was reading by candlelight. The muted grey and black of her blouse and pants were a sharp contrast to the evident warmth of the room; indeed, the only color on her was her hair, the dancing fire drawing out golden streaks from the chestnut.

Tonight, Julia's appearance was almost heavenly, her gold-streaked hair a shining beacon that cast a lively flush over her pale features, her bright lips standing out sharply against her skin. It was clear, however, that she was not warm, despite the evident heat of the room. Her shoulders shook with slight shivers, her eyes flitting over to Emma to make sure she was free from observation.

Paton closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the glass. "Julia…" He turned and quickly moved around to the door, entering softly and unnoticed. The curtains separating the shop from the back room wafted forward in his wake, dancing in the slight wind generated by his arrival. Emma looked up from her thoughts with a frown, but Julia remained motionless, staring down at her hands that sat limply in her lap.

"Hello, my dear." Paton came to a halt behind Julia's chair, gazing down at her with a mixture of tenderness and the utmost regret. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders, the paleness of his fingers glowing against her charcoal shirt. "It's been far too long."

At his touch Julia shivered, her hands reaching up reflexively to cover his. "So cold," she murmured, leaning forward so that she was closer to the fire. She moved arms moved down to wrap around her middle, hugging herself in a tight embrace that was as much for support as it was warmth.

Emma looked over at her aunt with a concerned frown, her usually-cheerful visage dark with worry.

Paton withdrew the offending limbs and glared down at them accusingly. "So sorry, dear one," he murmured, shoving his fists behind him to put them from his mind and staring down sadly at her head. He made as if to go to the fire, but found himself beaten there by Emma, who had detached herself from the sofa and hurried over to the hearth.

"Here, auntie," she said kindly, placing another log in the grate and stirring the glowing embers into a tall flame. Quick, steady steps placed Emma at Julia's side, adjacent to Paton, and she reached out and grasped her aunt's hand. Leaning down so that she could meet Julia's eyes, she smiled apologetically. "It's time for my date with Tancred, Aunt Julia," Emma said, looking earnestly at her aunt. "Will you be alright?" Her face exhibited her obvious concern, and she continued on tentatively, "You haven't been yourself since—well, lately."

Julia mustered a small smile, a weak example that wavered at the corners and matched its creator in its fragility. "I'll be fine, Emma," she insisted, firming up the stubborn corners and mustering a brief show of teeth. Withdrawing her hand from her niece's grasp, she waved firmly at the door. "Go and have fun, and give Tancred my regards." She watched Emma leave, the smile melting off her face as soon as the heavy door swung closed. "Oh, Paton…" Springs squeaked as she rose from the worn chair. "What am I going to do?" She paced to the window, looking out across the darkened courtyard. Outside, the wind whipped through the air, knocking the shutters into windows and creating an eerie howl that escalated and died like the wail of an unearthly siren.

Paton crossed the room to stand beside her. "I don't know, Julia." His answer was soft and hesitant, and his face bore an expression of pure torment, an agony that of a man standing on one side of an impassable chasm with all that he loves spread out before him on the other side.

Side by side, they stood together staring out into the darkness, close enough to be touching but remaining separate.

Paton could feel the heat resonating from Julia's body, but still he shivered, overwhelmed by a penetrating cold that could not be burned away. "I'm sorry, love," he sighed, squeezing his eyes closed and turning away towards the shadowy room. "I failed. I failed you—I failed us."

Julia remained stationary at the window. "It's not the same, Paton.." Her voice broke on his name. Abruptly, she turned from the window. "It's not the same," she repeated, her voice thick with tears. With trembling fingers, she clutched at the blanket that was draped over the sofa, drawing it tightly about her shoulders. Nose buried in the soft fabric, she sat back down, staring through blurred eyes into the fire.

Paton crossed the room in three long strides, was beside her in an instant, and could do nothing but stare down at her helplessly. He longed to draw her to him, hold her to his chest with his head buried in her chestnut hair and soothe her fears and worries. He ached with the desire to draw her pain into himself, ease her mind and allow her the peace that she so deserved but clearly could not find. He burned with love for the woman who wore his ring, wanted to kneel before her and take her hands in his, feel the cool metal of the promissory band that sat on her finger. He wanted to hold her head in his hands and kiss her lips with his own and whisper, repeatedly, how much he loved her. He wanted to, but he could not. His touch would only make her colder, would only bring on more pain.

At that moment all semblance of control abandoned Julia, and she buried her head in the blanket, her too-thin frame wracked with heavy sobs. "It's been six months," she uttered to the silent room. "They all look at me, give me these glances that say I should be okay now, that things should be a little better, a little easier." Her voice was rich with suppressed emotion, and she barely choked back a sob. "It's _not_. I can't go on like this, Paton," she said, her voice dying away to little more than a whisper. She rose and went to her desk, reaching around the flickering candle to pick up the yew-framed picture—a window to a happier time.

One damp finger traced the contours of the beaming, dark-haired man in the photo, traveled over to touch the manifestation of her own smiling self. She hugged the photo tightly as if to absorb its happiness, its radiant joy, then set it gently on the desk.

"Julia…" Paton could bear it no longer. His eyes burned with the agony he felt for her, blazed with hatred for their situation. Damning the consequences, he took her in his arms, gingerly enveloping her in his chilled embrace. She felt so _right _in his arms, her warmth seeping into him, driving away the cold that had sat in his bones for far too long. Paton closed his eyes, fiercely and selfishly struggling against time to make this moment last forever.

He could _feel_ her, and she him.

At the contact, Julia's eyes shot wide open, darkening with surprise. An unearthly cold washed over her, the frigidity of a bucket of ice water penetrating her body to the bone. Yet, despite the physical chill, she was _warm, _warm for the first time in months. She felt safe, protected, sane, _loved._ Her mouth moved but no sound emerged; yet, Paton could see that she mouthed his name.

"Yes, my dear," he murmured, voice thick with tears, "I'm here now—for a moment, at least." He combed his hands through her hair, fingers sliding effortlessly through the thick locks as they used to do so long ago.

Then, the moment passed, and he could feel her no longer.

Julia stood stock still for a moment, arms hanging loosely at her sides as she committed to moment to memory, be it a dream or reality. It was far too precious to allow to escape. She let out a choked laugh and stumbled over to the couch. "I'm going insane," she announced to the room at large. "Absolutely and completely insane. There can be no other explanation." She didn't care, though. If that was insanity, she would willingly embrace it.

Paton lowered his arms to his sides and stood limply by the desk, gazing down at the clutter of photographs and papers and regrets. The single candle fluttered on the desk, its flame dancing and waving as if possessed by an unearthly wind.

Julia flexed her numb fingers, her gaze clouding over with doubt. "Am I going mad?" she wondered aloud. "I thought I felt, for just a moment…" Overcome by emotion, she looked down helplessly at the ground and then frowned, her interest captured by a glint of color peeking out of her pants pocket.

With trembling fingers, she reached down and drew out a ruby, gold-veined leaf that most certainly had not been there before.

Julia's eyes filled with tears and she let out a strangled gasp. Her gaze turned feverishly towards the desk, her eyes glinting with long-suppressed hope and a love that no longer had a tangible outlet. "Paton?" she breathed, unable to keep the foolish, naïve hope from her voice. Was he truly there? Did she not imagine him after all? So many long, lonely months…after all this time, could it truly be he?

Paton smiled sadly and mustered up the remaining vestiges of his self-control, forcing himself to remain for a minute longer. He stepped towards Julia, one slow, solemn step at a time, knowing without a doubt that this would be the last time he could ever attempt such a feat.

Ghostly lips touched Julia's cheek, then her lips, numbing them with their soft caress. A soft, low voice whispered a gentle "I love you,"—and then the candle blew out.

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A nice little blend of the seasonal and the supernatural, yes? This was so much fun to write...I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it!

As always, reviews are love!


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